Cold Soldier
by Matthew Talbain
Summary: A despairing Ranma Saotome has traveled to the end of the Earth to find a cure for his mother; he instead finds himself on a journey through the stars, far from his home and, maybe, back again?
1. Prologue: A Heart of Cold Stone

_Cold Soldier_  
_A Ranma Nibunoichi x-over  
by Matthew Talbain_

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma Nibunoichi or the Metroid series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah, yes, yet another story to add to my collection of plot bunnies. It's a damn, cold shame, ain't it? I'm working on all of my other stories, but real life, and too many ideas, is just kickin' me in the pants. Maybe I'll find some kinda dedication soon enough...

**-----Prologue: A Heart of Cold Stone-----**

In the district of Nerima, Tokyo, if you were to ask about a certain individual, a young man by the name of Saotome Ranma, you would receive a large number of differing responses. Some would say he was a menace, dragging chaos and violence through the town while stringing a number of women along with his misguided charms. Some would say he was a poor individual with no life, the target of bullies and scarlet women with no sense of the word 'no'. Others still would say he was a savior, a man who gave freely of himself to defend those who deserved the punishment in line for them, trying his hardest to uphold his honor, unable to follow his heart because his honor was holding him back.

Ranma Saotome was freezing to death, and he didn't even know it.

He was walking through Siberia, his trademark silks and a thick fur coat his only protection from the frozen wasteland's effects on his body. He'd been marching for days and days on end, stopping only to eat or take care of some other natural business that couldn't wait, but he still soldiered on without any idea that his body was slowly shutting down, bit by bit, with every passing second.

This wasn't always the case, no. As a matter of fact, only a few days beforehand, Ranma had been marching through the Gobi Desert, using the Soul of Ice to protect himself from the searing heat. And before even that, he'd been in Nerima, as he'd been for the past two years, satisfying the status quo by battling his rivals and evading his fiancées. It was an encounter with his mother that had led him to the unfortunate circumstances that were slowly killing the unsuspecting martial artist.

Nodoka Saotome, the mother of Nerima's infamous premier martial artist, was guilty of a number of very serious contradictions. She loved her son dearly, but she despised the curse that rendered him temporarily 'unmanly'. She wanted her son to be happy and joyful, but she distrusted him to make the decision that WOULD make him happy, meaning she was the one that made the decision that would lead Ranma to be a father, and Nodoka to grandparenthood. She held honor and justice as the highest ideals her son could adhere to, yet she expected him to choose a fiancée out of a number of already-dishonored contracts and agreements and make her a grandmother. In other words, she loved her son 'unconditionally' with the condition that he did what he could to remain male and father many children for Nodoka to spoil while upholding the family honor.

And Ranma loved her more than any other person in the world, with the possible exception of one Tendo Kasumi.

Thus would Ranma's love for his mother lead him to his demise, incidentally proving indeed that he could love someone to death; his own. He had been atop the roof, staring at the stars and wondering if his life could possibly get any worse, when he heard his mother enter the Tendo compound. He was about to dismount his perch and go to her when he heard the eldest Tendo daughter, Kasumi, open conversation with the Saotome matriarch.

Curious to know more about these two women he loved, he sat still, listening to his mother and Kasumi speak idle chit-chat. His heart filled with contentment at every praise Kasumi uttered of him, his chest puffed with pride when she spoke of his strength and his determination, and his eyes glowed with moisture at her lamenting the stress he was forced to deal with each day. And all of these warm emotions fell and shattered when, with a single careless comment, his own mother destroyed his very soul.

"That's all well and good, Kasumi, but if he were any kind of man a woman would be happy to marry, he'd have gotten up and found a cure to that...that...disfiguring curse of his."

He hadn't even waited a single night, not even a single hour. The moment his mother left, he dropped from the roof and hugged Kasumi tight, thanking her for her kind words and asking her to tell the others he was going out to search for a cure. He didn't wait for her to rebuke his mother's scalding, senseless remark, though, had he waited just a minute before fetching his pack and some supplies, and leaping out of the window, he'd have heard Kasumi's whispered desire that she be the one to prove his mother wrong by being happy to wed the poor martial artist.

Since then, he'd traveled across Asia and into Europe on occasion; it had been several months, and he'd become somewhat of a legend, the Red Hero, as they called him. He'd made it a point to aid those who needed it when he could; a run into a burning building, the scattering of a number of bullies, and the like. As a matter of fact, the only traditional heroic act he hadn't been noted performing was the iconic rescue of a kitten in a tree, but given Ranma's ailurophobia, he can be forgiven for the failure to truly live up to heroic standards.

He'd exhausted every trail to magical cures to magical maladies within Asia save one; the presence of a curious magical disturbance resonating with the geographic lei lines within the Earth's surface at some point in Siberia. Growing tired, and unaware that the fur jacket he'd been given by a young woman he'd saved from a wolf pack would be insufficient protection from the sub-zero temperatures of Siberia's cold night, he set off on this one, last wild goose chase to make his mother smile.

Which led to his current, unseen dilemma. He was freezing to death, and even contributing to his eventual death by maintaining the Soul of Ice. Had he learned a bit more geography in school, or perhaps taken the time to realize that the snow around him meant he wasn't in Kansas anymore, Dorothy, then perhaps he might have turned around. Or perhaps not; his mother's wishes came before his own.

You see, when Ranma was traveling through the Gobi, he entered the Soul of Ice to prevent his body from dehydrating by condensing what little aerial moisture there was on his flesh; it had proven remarkably effective, and he'd continued on a very rapid northern trip through Russia, following his ki to the Siberian disturbance, without deactivating the technique.

The Soul of Ice is a godsend in desert conditions, lowering one's awareness of the external temperature and lowering the ambient temperature to the point where the body can condense moisture, effectively making the trip a walk in the park. However, in sub-zero conditions, the technique becomes a nail in the coffin; the lowered awareness of the external temperature kept Ranma from realizing that his body was beginning to freeze, starting with his own musculature, all the while contributing to his own demise with the Soul of Ice's propensity for condensing, and in recent hours, freezing, moisture.

Ranma Saotome was going to die in five minutes, and nothing could save him bar a miracle.

His muscles finally gave in to the frost, and slowed down, causing him to blink and begin an internal diagnostic; how could his muscles be freezing if he felt like it was a nice, cool breeze? It hit him, all at once; he'd been killing himself since entering Siberia. He refused to cry, refused to give in to his fate. With renewed fervor, he plowed through the snow, rushing for that disturbance, his motions a feeble attempt to heat his body with friction. It wasn't working well.

He stumbled into the disturbance, his frosty ki mixing with a cold-ki front of unknown origins; a rip in the air, perhaps, or some cold, frozen wasteland in another dimension. He was bathed in the magical afterglow for mere moments, his ki's regeneration improving dramatically as he was filled with the flow of frozen planetary energy. Without his knowledge, he began to sink into the icy ground; he'd been standing on thin ice; saltwater. He sank in lower, the water on his body freezing immediately as it encased him, his cold-ki and the boosted energy from the planetary magic flash-freezing it to his flesh. He never even felt his own eyes freeze shut.

Ranma Saotome, premier martial artist and unwitting lady-charmer, was no more.

--------------------------------------------------

_Research-Class Frigate Dominion_

**Log 9.293.3**

Glory to the Space Pirates!

We have at last penetrated the Galactic Federation's airspace and arrived in orbit over their homeworld! This heralds a great future for our the Space Pirates! Already we have assembled science teams to fall planet-side and begin to hack the remains of their planet's data network. The fact that the entire planet is coated in ice and glaciers is of little concern to us; the network remains active, though the few signs of life do provide some measure of worry; if anything could survive on that planet, then it must be hardy and formidable, indeed, like the Sheegoth of the Phendrana region of Tallon IV.

**Log 9.479.3**

We have received a disturbing communication from the rebuilt headquarters on Zebes; the Homeworld has been compromised. Reports indicate that there is a tremendous Federation presence on the surface, and the Hunter's craft has been sighted on security cameras in the inner workings. This does not bode well, nor do the reports of the failures of the science teams on Aether and Tallon IV. It is readily apparent, as the science teams have proven, that all Phazon onboard the _Dominion_ has ceased emitting energy. This is disturbing, but not distressing; the Phazon was solely for the purpose of mutating some of the Earth-native lifeforms we have already encountered.

**Log 9.183.5**

The data network has at last been breached! We have already begun to download old Earth-designed weapon blueprints. We have also received an odd transmission from a drone left on Zebes; initial scans of the Hunter's armorsuit and its functionality. In any case, production of prototype armorsuits using the Chozo technology included in the transmission has already begun, as has production of several old-Earth weapons.

**Log 10.249.1**

Science team Bravo recently detected an odd energy anomaly in an area the network has termed 'Siberia'. Excavation of the site began, and in only two planetary rotations, we unearthed a young Terran male, somehow frozen naturally in a cryogenic state. We have turned him over to the Medical team, who have begun the slow process of unfreezing him while maintaining his unconscious state; we must engage in numerous tests to determine how he was able to survive on this planet, as he cannot have been frozen for long and still maintain the large energy signature he is emanating even now.

**Log 10.493.1**

It has come to our attention that, due to lack of resources, we have only been able to produce a single replica of the Hunter's armorsuit. Initial testing indicates that the suit is identical to that of Samus Aran, including its level of modular capability. However, all attempts to bond it to a willing test subject have failed; analysis indicates that Space Pirate genetics are too enhanced for the suit to bond with. We have received Command's approval, however, to inject the last of the _Dominion_'s Chozo genetics supply into the human male; the process was a success, and we have begun attempts to bond the armorsuit to the human. We have named named _Project Avenger_, as he will be our answer to the Federation's pet Hunter!

------------------------------------------------

A/N: Yeah; you know it. Anybody else notice I seem to love killing, or almost killing, Ranma in every 'fic I write? Funny, that...


	2. Chapter One: A Cold Day in Hell

_**Cold Soldier**__  
__A Ranma Nibunoichi x-over  
by Matthew Talbain_

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma Nibunoichi or the Metroid series. Nor do I own the minor Halo reference that will pervade this fic for the rest of its continuity, either.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yay! A second chapter! Made of nothing but Space Pirate Logs! And I even kept the marking system the Prime games had, if anyone can understand them, because the-deity-you-worship-if-at-all knows I sure as hell can't. Wheeee!

**-----Chapter One: Cold Day in Hell-----**

**Log 10.786.1**

The armorsuit bonding process is complete, however we have come to the conclusion that he is far too dangerous as he is now. Scans indicate that his physical prowess is far greater than that of even our Elite, which may be part of the explanation of his survival of the natural cryostasis. In light of this disturbing news, we have contacted Command with a recommended course of action to failsafe _Vengeance_ against defection. We should be receiving their decision within several microcycles.

**Log 10.233.2**

Command's approval has been received, and we have already begun to bond the genetic structure of the Tallon IV Metroid-strain onto that of _Vengeance_; the added sensitivity to low temperatures will be our linchpin for controlling him should he become termagant. We have also initiated scans of the materials he is wearing, comparing them to element scans on the surface of the planet, in an attempt to determine his approximate age.

**Log 10.821.2**

It is impossible! _Vengeance_ is well over two thousand Terran years old! His genetic structure and molecular bonds should have lost cohesion ages ago, yet he remains fit and firm on the lab table! There is no evidence of any sort of degeneration of any sort, and, in fact, we fear his physique is only becoming even stronger, as we are steadily lowering the pressure in the lab chamber to equalize his internal pressure with that of the ship! We can only pray the genetic resequencing is successful; if _Vengeance_ were allowed to run amok unchecked, he could do more damage to us than the Hunter ever could...

**Log 10.191.4**

The resequencing has been successful, although there were several unexpected consequences as a result. His body immediately equalized with the external pressure, a characteristic of the Metroids, which are, of course, capable of surviving in vacuum. This rendered the slow depressurization of the lab useless, and thus we have equalized it with the rest of the ship. A second unforeseen event was the leakage of a strange energy field, which took the shape of a small puddle of reddened liquid, beneath his table. We have gathered the energy field and are attempting to study it, however, several members of Science team have been rendered female due to this; their productivity rate has increased dramatically, as the threat of their use for recreational purposes hangs over their head should they fail.

**Log 10.372.4**

Science team Bravo's efforts to recreate the energy field have all failed; the resources allocated to that project have been redirected to _Vengeance_, and Bravo has been appropriated for use in morale upkeep; the troopers' effectiveness has been increased with the promise of regular female attention. Science team Alpha, however, has given us nothing but good news in regards to _Vengeance._ Analysis of his brainwaves indicates a stunted education, which may hinder his mission, though Alpha team has completed a plan that has already been sent to Command for approval.

**Log 10.492.4**

Command's approval of the project was extremely swift, with a blanket approval for all decisions regarding the project in the future; Command has also issued the activation command for the resuscitation of Commander Ridley, yet again. We have already assembled the metal exoskeleton, as well as the necessary gene implants; we simply need the cloned cells to begin splitting properly, and then we shall install Ridley's personality into his newer body. The _Vengeance_ directive, Alpha team's plan for bringing the subject up to par, has begun; we are core-dumping all of the information from his home planet's data network as we speak, as well as the Space Pirate's language and that of the Galactic Federation at large. We want _Vengeance_ to understand his orders, after all.

**Log 10.151.5**

_Vengeance_'s 'education' is complete; the information is melding smoothly with his brainwave patterns; Alpha team has expressed a strong worry that it is melding too smoothly. They have attributed it to the presence of his Chozo and Metroid heritage, as well as his steadily-strengthening physique and the hardening of his epidermis. However, they stipulate that there is little reason to worry; _Vengeance_ is likely going to have several odd hobbies due to his extended knowledge, now, and little else as a surprise. We have introduced several Metroids into his lab to see their reaction to his Metroid heritage, with several troopers standing by in case they attacked. The results were, to say the least, astonishing; rather than attacking _Vengeance_, or ignoring him as they do other Metroids, they actually curled against him, like a child would its parent. This strange relationship is to be further studied.

**Log 10.396.5**

Another disturbing discovery has come to light regarding _Vengeance_. An Alpha team technician was giving him a routine physical to catalog the changes in his body since the completion of the Metroid gene assimilation and pricked himself while checking _Vengeance_'s teeth. The technician was almost instantly drained of his own energy to the point of near-death, and is currently recovering in the Medical bay. Scans of the project's teeth have shown that they have become almost identical to the foretusks of a Metroid; they have thickened, yet become hollow to allow for the drainage of the unnamed energy that Metroids are famous for being able to drain. As a result, several injunctions have been put into place for crew safety when handling _Vengeance_ in the future.

**Log 10.122.6**

The containment of the strange energy that rendered Bravo team female has failed; the energy signature has all but faded from the ship's scopes, though we have reason to believe it is nesting itself quite close to _Vengeance_'s own containment area. This is a slight cause for worry, as we are keeping Commander Ridley's incomplete regeneration near _Vengeance_ to facilitate Alpha team's production in both fields. We have also reinstated Bravo team, female as they are, to begin applying the modifications to _Vengeance_'s armorsuit. We have also begun production of an old-Earth style armorsuit to bond with _Vengeance_, as the appearance of the Chozo armorsuit is too close to that of the Hunter's; we do not wish for him to unduly stress our own troops by causing them to believe the Hunter is nearby. He will be able to switch between the two armorsuits at will.

**Log 10.741.6**

The construction and bonding of the Mjolnir Battle Armor is complete, however, we have had to relegate Bravo team to the troops' morale upkeep once again. The idiots actually activated _Vengeance_'s Ice Beam functionality before activating his Varia Suit functionality! It is fortunate that we were able to step in and deactivate it before his body temperature dropped to near fatal levels. However, the process did raise an important question; to which arm do we assign the Power Beam and the Grapple functionality? The question was answered with a general consensus after witnessing _Vengeance_'s unconscious actions with the Metroids were are now keeping in his containment area for pacification purposes; the subject appears to be right-handed, and so we have afforded functionality of the Power Beam to his left arm, and the Grapple Beam to his right.

**Log 11.381.2**

A curious problem has recently arisen; much of Commander Ridley's new weapons and genetics array has gone missing, and there is not a Pirate on the vessel that admits to losing or stealing it. It is of little consequence, as there are enough genetic supplies to rebuild the Commander as he was before the destruction of Zebes. However, until the culprit is brought forward, the lower crews have all been placed on stricter rations, and have been banned from approaching Science Team Bravo for an indeterminate amount of time. As a minor note, the Medical team seems to be taking a sadistic pleasure in administering selective abortions among the often-pregnant members of Bravo team. We have, so far, assigned no teams to study the aborted ovum, though the analyses we have taken indicate no anomalies.

**Log 11.873.2**

Commander Ridley's regrowth has reached the stage at which he may be transported back to Zebes; we have sent him back, along with several samples of Terran wildlife. We have also received indications that the reconstruction of our base on Zebes is complete, along with the acquisition of holdings in the Crateria and Maridia regions. Such news brings glory to the Space Pirates!

**Log 11.495.3**

We have received word that the Hunter has eliminated all but one Metroid in the SR388 ecosystem. This news is terrible, as that Metroid would be the last save the few we have onboard the _Dominion_, following the destruction of the Tallon IV and most of Zebes. The Commander, however, was dispatched to recover the Metroid for cloning from the research station to which the Hunter is reported to have brought the infant.

Glory to the Space Pirates!

**Log 11.912.3**

_Vengeance_'s armorsuit has been fully upgraded with all of the upgrades we have witnessed on the Hunter's suit throughout our years of 'acquaintance', including the Hazard Shield we used on our Homeworld. We have, however, modified them that they may be used with either armorsuit available to _Vengeance_, and we have also modified them that the Varia Suit's temperate capability and the Hazard Shield's defensive measures may be used outside of either suit. We have built a minor flaw into the Varia Suit's template, however, that will allow only a Space Pirate jamming frequency to disable its ability to mitigate colder temperatures. Both suits are connected to _Vengeance_ in an energy-particulate sub-space pocket, much like the Hunter's own, although _Vengeance_ will be able to switch between the Chozo Power Suit and the Terran Mjolnir Mark IV Battle Armor at will with the press of a button with the simultaneous application of his fingerprint. The suits are coded into a wrist-band located on his left wrist, bonded with his flesh and bio-engineered to grow with his body. Truly, _Vengeance_ is the greatest creation of the Space Pirates!

**Log 11.405.4**

We have received a distressing transmission from Command; Zebes has once again been destroyed, but this time, it was the entire planet that met with destruction. On top of this, the Hunter has been seen leading excavations on SR388; the presence of Metroids in the galaxy has dwindled down to the few we keep here on the Dominion, in orbit over the Terran homeworld. We may just be the last bastion of Space Pirates left; as such, we have begun to collect our samples and materials and are preparing for a hyperspace jump into contested space; we must find a new homeworld and begin to build back the strength of the Space Pirates! With this in mind, we have ceased aborting all ovum produced by the Bravo team, and in fact have encouraged their pregnancies. We shall not allow the Hunter to prevail!

**Log 11.100.5**

We have found the missing components to Commander Ridley's body, as well as the long-since lost energy signature. Unfortunately, the two were found one in the same; the energy signature, which is now being referenced by the crew as the 'Bravo Factor', was discovered hiding near the _Dominion_'s thrusters with the appearance of a curious cross between the Commander, his mechanical body enhancements, and a human female of short stature. It is readily apparent that the Bravo Factor used the Commander's body parts to cobble herself a body to inhabit, and used a combination of the body types of _Vengeance_ and the Commander as a template. We have managed to contain the girl, though all of our attempts to study her so far have resulted in heavy casualties and several mortalities, which we, of course, cannot afford.

**Log 11.715.5**

This is the final recording of the Research-Class Frigate Dominion. Our attempts to reprogram _Vengeance_ to be a loyal killing machine were only partly successful; we managed to remove his obstinate desire to never take life, but that was all we managed to do. Our further probes were met with intense resistance from an internal entity implanted within his mind; the erasure of this entity resulted in _Vengeance_'s awakening, and with it, his fear; he did not have time to become accustomed to us, and instead began lashing out. The few troopers we had in the room with him opened fire in an attempt to save lives, but his Hazard Shield was already active. He tore the attackers apart with absurd ease, and seemed to almost instinctually latch onto them with his teeth and drained them of life. As I record this message, all Metroids have rallied with him, and all of our troopers have been drained, and the Bravo Factor is once again missing. We have managed to destroy a number of the Metroids, but it is no use. We can only pray that his mindless rampage is stopped soon, or else the Space Pirates may very well be no more. We have sent the pregnant Science Team Bravo to a neighboring star system, along with several members of Medical and Command, and we have updated their escape vessel with holodisks that contain all of the data for current Space Pirate technology; it is our hope that they bring the Space Pirates back to glory. The doors to the command center have been-what?! No! Get away, you freak!! I made you, I ca-...

**End Log, Research-Class Frigate Dominion. Final Transmission Date; December First, 3429 G.C.**

The gold-and-crimson armored figure stepped lightly through the wreckage of the frigate hovering in orbit over the nearby planetoid, Sentinel IV. She sighed as she scanned the last data node and connected her gunship to it, downloading data from over two years in the past directly to her ship's servers for later review. There was no sign, however, of the experimental armorsuits or old-Earth weapons. More disturbing, to her way of thinking, however, was the lack of evidence of either this curious 'Bravo Factor' or Project Vengeance. What disturbed her the most was the lack of the frigate's second escape pod. She pressed a button on the side of her helmet.

"Federation H.Q., this is Samus Aran; we have a problem..."


	3. Chapter Two: Eyes of Solid Ice

_**Cold Soldier**__  
__A Ranma Nibunoichi x-over  
by Matthew Talbain_

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma Nibunoichi or the Metroid series. Nor do I own the minor Halo reference that will pervade this fic for the rest of its continuity, either. Or Outlaw Star.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it's been so long; my muse comes and goes, and I have -another- fic stuck in my head; a crossover I haven't seen yet, actually. Time will tell if I can pull it off, though.

**--Chapter Two: Eyes of Solid Ice--**

It was a busy day in Clyde's Hot Spot, a bar on Sentinel III that had seen rough days and rougher nights. It had been rebuilt and renamed recently, after a violent bar brawl involving several of his usual customers. Thankfully, they'd been out and about on some business or other since the renovation, and Clyde could finally take a deep breath and relax. Oh, certainly, he never minded his bar getting roughed up a little, but that Ctarl-Ctarl was just too violent for business to pick up enough to make up the costs of the repairs. Gods, was he glad when they set off on that bounty hunting gig a couple of years ago.

He leaned backwards against the counter, idly cleaning a rocks glass, as he looked up and took in his remodeled bar. It wasn't much, just some idle redecoration, a bunch of small tables, a pool hall, and of course, the bar with the obligatory stools. It was his, though, and he couldn't be happier to share it with his barmaid, Iris, and his new bouncer.

He was only relatively new, actually; the kid had come in about a year and a half or so ago, looking lost and more than a little scared. His hair was a mess, even in that tight braid he had, and Clyde and Iris had taken a shine to him. He'd had no money, had nothing except the nearly shredded clothes on his back and the freakiest pet aliens anyone had ever seen; the damn things were transparent! But the kid had absolutely refused to let them go. Clyde and Iris offered him the flat above the bar, provided he did some work in the bar, and the kid accepted.

He'd had yet to look back since he'd made that offer. The kid was the best bouncer he'd ever had; he was more than strong enough to eject even the rowdiest customers with barely any effort. He was quite the charmer, too, however; he brought in just as many female customers as Iris brought in males! But the best part, in Clyde's opinion, was the kid's ability to defuse even the most volatile situations with little more than a glance and a crack of his knuckles.

He'd said his name was Ranma; Clyde took him at his word. He didn't seem the type to lie, and if he was, he'd never lied to Clyde or Iris, and to Clyde, that was all that mattered. The kid had long since become a sort of hero around the colony, too; whenever he wasn't working, he was out and about, practicing those martial arts of his, and he'd more than once been responsible for saving a few lives. He'd even been deputized by the local sheriffs to make regular rounds with the oldest suit of armor Clyde had ever seen, a relic from when the homeworld was still habitable.

"Hey, Ranma! Why don't you take a break, sit by the bar for a few minutes. I don't think we'll have any problems tonight."

He smiled as his stone-faced bouncer suddenly grinned and, with the ease that comes with long years of practice, leapt and flipped onto the single empty seat in the joint, right in front of Clyde. A broad grin broke out on Clyde's face as he saw his barmaid, Iris, frown cutely at the display; judging by the cold drink she had in her hand and the direction her body was facing, she'd been bringing Ranma a drink. She sighed and turned, dropping the drink down on the counter in front of Ranma. "There ya go, hon. I made it myself!"

And naturally, Ranma was completely oblivious to the entire exchange. He sipped his drink, a non-alcoholic beverage he'd taught Clyde and Iris to make that he called a 'smoothie'. Another Earth relic and crowd-pleaser. He smiled and looked around the bar, which was quiet for that hour of night; it seemed enough people around the colony had gotten the picture when it came to the Hot Spot. He turned back to his boss as Iris walked away.

"So, Clyde; what's up?"

The bartender chuckled and put down the glass and rag in his hands. He leaned on the counter, taking the bar in. To be honest, Ranma had become something of a son to him. They'd been together, counted on each other, and trusted each other for the past two years, and Clyde was quite proud of the young man.

"Nothin' much, Ranma, just wanted to shoot the breeze. The place is quiet, tonight, so I figured you could use a couple of minutes off of your feet."

Ranma had the grace to smile as he sipped the fruit concoction in his hand.

"Actually, I've been thinking it's a little too quiet; why don't you go grab that guitar of yours and see if you can get the place jumping."

Ranma smiled broadly; ever since he'd discovered his talent for playing musical instruments and singing music from the Old Earth colonies, Ranma'd practically fallen in love with singing. When he wasn't practicing that hand-to-hand style of his, he was practicing with all of the many instruments he'd been buying with the pay he earned. It had only been a few weeks since Ranma had discovered he really enjoyed playing the guitar, and it showed in the crowds he always managed to draw. Clyde was actually considering charging for the 'Ranma Shows'.

In short order, the time-lost prodigy was wrapping up yet another heartfelt show, and grinned broadly as he watched Clyde begin to shoo the customers out for the night. Life was good, especially with his friends. He nodded over to Clyde, issuing a low whistle afterwards. Almost immediately, he was assaulted by the five of the closest friends he'd ever had. The transparent floating creatures attached themselves to him eagerly, chirping almost adoringly. Something in Ranma told him something was wrong with them every time they did this; they should all have been bigger, stronger, but it mattered little to him at the moment. They were his friends.

He meandered back over to the bar, where Clyde was pulling out several canisters. Ranma smiled gratefully at the barkeep as Iris clocked out and sat down on the stool immediately next to his own, turning and whispering quietly to the metroids clinging to him. He felt the sting of their fangs draining his Hazard Shield's energy, an orange glow the only clue that revealed that the Metroids were enjoying their nightly meal. It had taken months for Clyde to get used to this. Ranma ended the nightly ritual by opening the sealed canisters all in a row and draining them, the orange glow brightening around him before winking out, an indicator that Ranma's energy was topped off once again.

Clyde cleared his throat.

"Ranma, there's something I want to show you."

The pony-tailed martial artist canted his head curiously at the old barkeep, running a hand along the membranes of his metroids idly. Without preamble, the old man reached under the bar and pulled out an old, dusty box made of oak.

"I was looking into that armor of yours as a bit of a hobby. I came across a bunch of old records and made some calls, and managed to get hold of this. It was delivered just today."

He handed the box to Ranma, who opened it to reveal a simple crystalline-metallic cylinder that fit snugly in the palm of his hand. He gazed at the device in wonder, ignoring the sound of a patron entering the double-doors behind him. He stepped back, flicking his arm down and pressing a button on the cylinder. Immediately, a pair of translucent violet-white blades of light issued from the ends of the cylinder, wrapping in a sort of hilt around Ranma's hand before extending forward in a two-pronged point.

"No way...a Sangheili Royal Guard's Energy Sword! Clyde, where did you get it?"(1)

The low gasp from the figure behind him garnered his attention, and he immediately reacted as he would to a threat. He dropped low on his heels, darting his right hand to his left wrist quickly as the metroids all received the unspoken 'defensive' command. They fanned out behind Ranma, taking place before their caretaker's caretakers.

The figure was vaguely familiar to Ranma. He stood over at a dominating six foot six, just an inch over Ranma's own impressive stature. His black hair was cut close, high and tight, and his dark blue eyes gazed down at the blade in Ranma's hand. He was dressed in spartan manner, wearing only a dark brown t-shirt and an old camouflage print pair of military trousers. His frame was very well-muscled, and his features sharp and angled, yet soft, despite the man's obvious combat experience. His ensemble was completed by a pair of simple combat boots and two dogtags dangling from his neck.

"Who are you?"

The stranger coughed quietly, scratching the base of his neck. An odd -clink- accompanied this motion.

"Sorry about this. The name's John. If you know that sword, then you might recognize me better by my callsign. 'Sierra One-One-Seven.'"

Ranma stared at the man, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. "No way...you...you're dead. You died at the Ark! What are you doing here?!"

John coughed quietly into his hand and blushed brilliantly, tapping the back of his neck again. "That's a story for later. I'm looking for a 'Ranma'? I'd heard stories of a young man patrolling the area in Mjolnir armor. Being a SPARTAN, I was naturally curious."

Ranma eyed John warily before looking over at Clyde, who just nodded hesitantly. Ranma stood from his ready position and tapped his left forearm, failing to blink as a nimbus of white light engulfed him, forming a wire-frame of light that suddenly materialized itself into a very familiar set of green armor, though with a few slight differences. His height immediately increased to just over seven feet, his stance became even more confident and sure, if such was possible, and his hand molded more confidently around the blade in his hand. The image was extremely comforting to John Sierra, as he'd come to call himself.

It helped his homesickness and spatial vertigo a great deal to see a fellow from the SPARTAN program, a friend and partner from Old Earth. Given his reputation, the others can be forgiven for gaping when John Sierra grasped the soldier before him in a tight hug, tears spilling from eyes that had remained cold as glaciers for almost all of his existence.

"At last...oh, God, at last..."


	4. Chapter Three: Stay Frosty

_**Cold Soldier**__  
__A Ranma Nibunoichi x-over  
by Matthew Talbain_

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma Nibunoichi or the Metroid series. Nor do I own the Halo or BattleTech reference that will pervade this fic for the rest of its continuity, either. Or Outlaw Star. Please no sue!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I missed the Author's Note last chappie. Here it is now.

(1) Sangheili: The name of the Elite race in the Halo games. The Royal Guard, Elites tasked with protecting the former Prophets of the Covenant before the Jiralhanae took over following the public humiliation of a Sangheili commander, were given blades with redundant-energy power cores, giving them more 'oomph' and a nigh-unlimited supply of power.

**--Chapter Three: Stay Frosty--**

He was marching through the facility coldly, clad in green armor that molded to his every muscle. He wore no helmet, his face contorted with rage, anger, instinctive pain. He latched onto the bug in front of him with his teeth, feeling himself grow stronger as the bug turned to ash in his grip. Again and again, bite after bite, without mercy, without remorse. He ignored the sharp bolts of energy splashing against the orange-yellow barrier that existed only as long as those bolts splashed against it. He tore doors from their hinges, forced irising doors open with his bare hands as he found the one responsible. He leapt forward, his teeth seeming to extend as blue-black blood splashed across his face...

--Clyde's Hot Spot--

Ranma leapt from his bed, panting, crouched in a combat stance, his hand going instinctively for the buttons embedded in his left forearm. Before he even awakened beyond his instinctive awareness, he was seeing the world through the one-way screen of his reflective orange solar visor. He blinked quietly as, once again, he attempted to ignore the blinking red indicators in the corners of his vision, only the lower-left corner stable. He canted his head curiously, however, as he realized the only blinking in the upper-right corner of his HUD was the -secondary- weapon slot. His primary weapon indicated a sword at full energy. He quietly stared at that indicator on his HUD for a moment, his mind completely blank.

His mind opened once again to the memory of last night and he began the long, slow walk downstairs, careful to keep the clomp of his metal boots as quiet as possible as he exited the bar into the still, cold air of the colony at large. He quickly activated his armor's climate control functionality, releasing a breath he never knew he was holding as he felt his temperature climb to a much more comfortable level. He turned and opened the garage attached to the bar's annex, entering and leaning against the door as the slowly-lightening sky gave evidence of the truth of last night's memories.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 was sleeping in a decades-old demilitarized M12 Warthog LRV. Ranma briefly flicked over the conversation last night, trying to remember how the man had acquired the relic, then nodded to himself as he remembered that only half of the Forward Unto Dawn had entered in-Earth-atmosphere from the slipspace portal, and that the half carrying the Chief and Cortana had been the aft quarters of the carrier; the half with the stowed equipment. Upon awakening from his cryonic sleep, he'd awakened to a stale atmosphere and hastily set about trying to get out into space in a Pelican, equipped with a Warthog and a few 'extras'.

The only problem was, the Chief had awakened alone. Cortana, the smart AI partnered with John after her creation by Dr. Catherine Halsey, was gone. Her holodisk, which the Chief had plugged into the remains of the Forward Unto Dawn's network, was missing. Ranma's mouth turned downwards as he remembered that. Who would steal an AI's holodisk and leave the Chief, a legendary Hero to the people of Earth, especially when that AI had likely reached the end of her projected seven-year "lifespan". And why hadn't they touched the undoubtedly valuable weapons, equipment, and vehicles? He sighed quietly as he remembered his own admission, that he could remember nothing from before his own violent awakening. He hadn't even admitted as much to Clyde and Iris before, though he knew they surmised as much. John had simply shaken that off and clapped Ranma on the shoulder.

Ranma set about awakening the soldier in the vehicle, smirking as he noticed the man had donned his Mjolnir Mark V battle armor before going to sleep. Like Ranma, he carried no projectile weapons or explosives, a signal that he meant no harm to anyone on the backwater planet known as Sentinel III. Even Ranma rarely utilized his energy weapons on the planet; it was too easy to attract attention, as the Chief's presence proved. Ranma pondered whether or not to change his armor to the second suit, but mentally shook his head. People already knew there was a SPARTAN-II on Sentinel III, and it served his purpose as a cover, anyway. There were a few other SPARTANS out there, mostly from the partially successful SPARTAN-III project, that had no records due to their long years in cryostasis. What was one more soldier from the Old Earth days without identification or any records?

Ranma was broken from his thought processes as he realized the Chief was awakening wordlessly, cracking his neck as Ranma tapped his helmet, extending his hand forward. John removed the helmet and breathed in the 'morning' air of the colony as Ranma calibrated the helmet's internal clock to match that of his own, with a little help from the core-dump of knowledge boiling in the back of his brain. As he passed the helmet back to the man who wore it, he idly raised his fingers to brush the metal port that connected to his spinal cord and neural network with a scowl. Not for the last time, he cursed those damnable pirates as he flexed his fingers in the armored glove that protected them from the cold of the environment.

"Thanks, Ranma. Patrol this morning?"

The soldier ignored his emotional outburst from the night before in his usual laconic manner as the armored figure next to him simply nodded. The Chief smiled as he replaced his helmet and activated the technofoam seal that connected the neck to the seal on his helmet, making the suit entirely airtight and capable of spacial extra-vehicular activity. He nodded to Ranma from the passenger seat he'd slept in, and smiled under the helmet as the young man easily slipped into the driver's seat, passing the sword at his hip to the Chief. Ranma revved the vehicle and exited the garage, tapping a button on the side of his helmet to close the garage door. John's smile turned into a grin. The SPARTANs were back!

--Some time later--

Ranma cruised quietly along the semi-paved roads in the suburbs of the city of Locust, sighing quietly as he listened for anything at all from the silent radio in his helmet. He leaned back in his seat and looked at the Chief, jerking his thumb over at a nearby fast-food restaurant. He smiled behind his visor as the soldier just nodded, and he immediately turned into the drive-thru.

Some time later, two unhelmeted SPARTANS, though Ranma didn't know he was one by affiliation only, were enjoying their burgers and the limited adoration by a number of civilians that knew some of the Old Earth histories and legends, and both were trying not to blush. It seemed the SPARTAN-II program had become more and more famous since the battles at Reach and the destructive assault on Earth. Both men bore the adulation as stoically as they could, both unused to such effusive praise, though each admitted to himself, if not out loud, that it was enjoyable to be admired instead of despised. As they finished their burgers along with some random pictures and, with a little guilt in Ranma's case, autographs, a loud squawk from the Warthog's radio gave everyone pause. Ranma reached forward, gazing curiously at the Chief, as he turned the volume on the radio to ten.

"...eat, this is Major Alan Schaefer at Point Bravo-Two! We need support! Get everyone out of here, get them in the shelters, get them to the choppers! We're under attack! There are walkers out here, we're pinned down! They're heading for the cities, get off the planet if you can! I repeat, the Wor-..."

The radio hissed with static, then fell silent as the Chief turned the volume off. Ranma's eyes solidified to chips of solid ice. He didn't know what 'Walkers' meant, but it sounded like an invasion. He looked over at John, who leapt into the back of the 'Hog and opened up the floor panel, pulling out an M68 Gauss Cannon Turret mount, hooking it up and smirking at Ranma, pulling out a few weapon crates and stacking them on the rack in front of the turret, behind the driver's seat. He looked down at Ranma, pulling on his helmet as his driver did the same.

"Drive."

--Point Bravo-Two on approach to Sentinel III--

The regular military was being hard-pressed. A large number of armored suits and two reverse-joint walker mechs were tearing through their defensive line. Their comm unit had been destroyed by a stray grenade. Major George Dillan bit down on his cigar grimly as he ordered a pair of units with RPGs to the fore, holding back tears. Schaefer had been a good friend, and now, with him dead and the comm. destroyed, there was little to no hope of any reinforcements. Hell, they'd been lucky the bounty hunter in the orange armor had been nearby!

Another explosion rocked through his company's ranks, killing two men. He smirked grimly as another pair of explosions rocked further away, and one of the walkers began to fall as one of its legs collapsed beneath it. He realized then that those two men had been the RPG units. At least they'd managed to take one of the bastards down. He growled as he prepared to order suicide charges. There was no chance he was going to allow these bastards to hit the highway he and his men were guarding, no way he'd make their march on the city any easier than it was. He almost gave the command when an eerie silence overcame him, quickly pierced by a most unusual sound. Almost like revving...

He gasped as a vehicle with oversized wheels slammed into the ground in front of him, knocking his hat off of his head. He ducked and immediately yelled at the two armored figures in the jeep.

"Get the hell out of here, you hot dogs! What the hell do you two idiots think you're doing!?"

The one at the turret turned, gazing quietly at the major from behind a reflective orange visor. Suddenly, it struck the Major what he was looking at. SPARTANS! Real, live SPARTANS, with a Warthog! His mouth fell open, his cigar dropped to the ground, as he realized the implications. They had reinforcements!

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 looked over at the one remaining mech and the countless ground troops on the field before looking down at Ranma. He reached forward and opened one of the weapon crates, pulling out an M19 SSM Rocket Launcher with a single set of spare rockets. Passing this to Ranma, he equipped himself similarly before opening a second weapon crate and handing his fellow one of the two MA5C ICWS assault rifles contained within, giving the man half of the ammunition contained within. He clicked his weapons to the ready before holstering them on his back. Ranma followed suit as John turned to the Major and nodded curtly, answering his earlier question.

"Sir. Finishing this fight."

--Author's Note--

Mwahahaha! I'm a bastard, ain't I? Props to anyone who guesses the two unnamed references near the end of this chapter.


	5. Chapter Four: Cold Comfort

_**Cold Soldier**__  
__A Ranma Nibunoichi x-over  
by Matthew Talbain_

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranma Nibunoichi or the Metroid series. Nor do I own the Halo or BattleTech reference that will pervade this fic for the rest of its continuity, either. Or Outlaw Star. Please no sue!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Quick question. Has anybody else noticed the utter difference in scale between MechAssault and Lone Wolf? I mean, you go from being -huge- in comparison to buildings, and godly compared to those little toy soldiers shooting at you in your mech, to being big enough to take up most of the back of the -any- mech in a suit of PowerArmor that adds maybe two feet to your height, and -tiny- compared to most buildings in said mech. Can somebody explain this? Also, Samus will begin this chapter -intensely- OOC, and hopefully the in-chapter explanation will be enough. I'm stating this up front to avoid flames about the character of Samus. She -will- return to her IC self...when, however, is entirely up to how well I can portray her struggles with the physiological and mental changes forced upon her by her recent trials.

**--Chapter Four: Cold Comfort--**

Her mind was working in overtime. She was trying valiantly to suppress her gag reflex, trying not to cry as she killed soldier after soldier, her Power Beam approaching something resembling overheating. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was only supposed to hunt and kill pirates, the pirates that had taken both of her families away from her, the pirates that had stolen her homes, her life. She wasn't supposed to hurt other humans, she'd never done it before, never willingly.

But it couldn't be helped, now. Sentinel III was one of her favorite places to visit, one of the most peaceful worlds in three galaxies, and it was being invaded. She bit back a sob as she took more lives, trying to reestablish her cold, efficient mindset. It was just so difficult. They weren't worth crying over, damnit!

It wasn't really her fault. She'd finally found a little time to relax. It had been a one-off assignment following the BSL Incident. So she'd taken her time, and the biological changes to her DNA were finally allowed to reach her brain without the adrenaline of the BSL Incident keeping her focused. She'd begun to have -feelings- again. It had unnerved her, even scared her. She had been trained by the Chozo, trained by the Galactic Federation, and she'd killed humans before. But the changes her body was undergoing was like a second coming-of-age, and she'd more than once collapsed into a fit of tears on her ship as she remembered her parents and Bird Grandpa...and their deaths.

She'd found a renegade Space Pirate research frigate hovering over the planet, completely abandoned. The inside had been almost completely barren, save for the ashes and dried husks of Space Pirates, all bearing the symptoms of being mauled by metroids. The only significant damages she'd found had been in one of the labs, and near the engine rooms. Something had escaped, and the research logs she'd downloaded with her visor had backed that theory up in spades.

Her only lead had been that there was a missing escape pod with an ion trail leading to this planet, one of her favorite worlds. She'd touched down and began investigating, but found nothing to indicate any form of metroid massacre. No missing persons, no mysterious deaths, no hospitalizations with little to no data on the cause of the 'illness'. The only thing she had to go on now was the reports of a one-man army wearing a relic suit of armor from the UNSC. A SPARTAN-II. She'd been en route to find this man, this Ranma, when she'd seen the attack.

Her mental turmoil was proving to be her undoing, now. She was on the front lines, dropping all of her Power Bombs, launching as many missiles as she could, but she was inflicting minimal casualties compared to the influx of reinforcements. She was being surrounded, she was beginning to hyperventilate inside her Power Suit. This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't how it was supposed to end. She tried to collect herself and began to regroup, firing rapidly into the oncoming rush of troops, accepting, finally, that it was her time to die.

Her firing stopped as a projectile rocketed through the front line, rippling the air visibly as it pierced nearly thirty soldiers before it stopped. A revving sound soon followed, and more and more of those rippling bullets pierced the lines. She turned and gasped, ducking as a four-wheeled jeep bounced up into the air using a stack of debris as a ramp and landed in front of her. She had no time to assess the situation as the driver stood on his seat, drew a bead with an -old- model of rocket launcher...and completely decimated the oncoming charge. His partner, in the turret, repeated his action as the driver allowed the barrel of the rocket launcher to spin, setting another barrel in position. The gunner drew a bead, not on the charge, but on the incoming walker mech.

It happened so quickly that Samus could only stare as her rescuers launched a total of three more missiles each into the oncoming enemy. The mech was still running, but it had seen much better days, and the seemingly endless crush of reinforcements was beginning to ebb. She shook her head and drew a bead on another line of soldiers, taking a deep breath as she activated her Power Beam's missile functionality.

"Get in."

She blinked and looked up at the gunner, who was putting another pair of disposable rocket barrels on his launcher. She cocked her head, knowing he couldn't see her face behind the green visor that clouded her features, much like the reflective orange visor prevented anyone from seeing behind the helms of the soldiers before her. The soldier seemed to sigh as he turned to look at her, shaking his head slowly as he launched another missile into a platoon of armored soldiers without looking.

"I didn't stutter, ma'am. Get in."

She nodded curtly and grabbed a rung, hopping in the passenger side. The driver had reloaded his own rocket launcher before dropping down into the seat once more. He moved to hand her the weapon before he seemed to start, nearly jumping from his chair. For the first time that day, Samus grinned inside her helmet. Finally, it seemed, somebody on this planet recognized her in her armor. She wallowed briefly in the joy of knowing somebody knew her reputation as the armored figure put the launcher between them on the back of the seat. Apparently, he knew she didn't need a missile launcher.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Aran. If you wouldn't mind providing us with a little extra firepower while we show off?"

Samus almost laughed at the driver's request, but she nodded curtly and leaned out the side of the vehicle, briefly shifting her Power Beam to its Wave Beam functionality as her new friends revved up the turret and the engine. She fired a few rounds as the driver brought the jeep around in reverse, aiming them on a course straight for the mech. Samus stopped firing and just stared at the driver. They weren't retreating?!

She didn't have any more time to ponder the thought as the jeep suddenly rocketed forward, accelerating at a rate that shouldn't have been possible for such an old vehicle. She made a mental note to take a more detailed look at the specs of the older military technology before she realized that the vehicle was actually mowing through soldiers like a scythe through wheat. She looked back and saw the gunner firing away stoically, taking careful aim. She wondered what kind of hell he'd been through to be able to make accurate potshots against lines of troops in the middle of the rough, turbulent ride the jeep was providing.

She sat more firmly in her seat and began to fire as the driver threw the vehicle into a power slide, blinking as he slammed sidelong into a clustered group of soldiers huddling around what seemed to be a mortar tube. Her thoughts were suddenly cut short as she -felt- a looming shadow overtake her, staring up at the monstrous walking mech. She gazed up at the monstrosity, and noticed the two soldiers with her jumping out of the vehicle and running right at it. She stared, wide-eyed, as bullets began to pepper the two imposing figures, splashing harmlessly off in bright orange flashes of light. She slumped in her seat. What had she gotten herself into?

Ranma felt more than a little unnerved at Samus' presence. He knew she'd been the primary enemy of the Space Pirates he'd escaped from two years ago. He knew she was a 'good guy'. But the Space Pirates programming had been...very adamant. She was evil, she had to be destroyed for the glory of the Space Pirates. It was only Ranma's hatred for the damnable creatures that allowed him to cooperate with her.

But that was secondary, now. He and John were charging the mech, Ranma with the assault rifle, John with the energy sword. They cut a swath through the charging forces, all of whom seemed violently intent on keeping them from the crippled walker. Ranma rushed forward, slapping his rifle on his back, and fell to one knee, turning and cupping his hands in front of him. John nodded and, without missing a beat, stepped into Ranma's cupped hands and leapt as Ranma lifted the one-ton soldier into the air. John wasted no time, grabbing a rung on the lower-right of the walker's fuselage-shaped cockpit. He climbed quickly, pulling himself higher, as he sliced open the cockpit to the mech, deactivating the sword and grabbing the pilot. Without so much as a second thought, he tossed the soldier to the ground and yanked at a ladder on the side of the fuselage, grinning as Ranma began to climb the ladder quickly.

John dropped to the ground as Ranma tossed down his rocket launcher and activated the mech's weapon systems, targeting the ground troops with a cold, efficient manner. He rotated the torso of the mech on its legs, turning it into a gigantic missile turret, as he and John decimated the remainder of the enemy. In very short order, there was nobody left on the field, and no more reinforcements dropping from the skies. Ranma sagged in his seat in relief for a moment before searching his computer-enhanced memory for knowledge on this mech, nodding to himself as he remembered it was a Cougar mech. With that in mind, he reached forward and down, ripping the 'black box' out of the instrument panel. Knowing this action would initiate the Cougar's self-destruct, Ranma leapt out onto the ladder and began to slide down.

"John! Down! It's gonna blow!"

The Chief wasted no time and simply let go of the rungs holding him up, allowing himself to fall to the ground. He and Ranma both ran for the Warthog, where a surprise waited for them. One last soldier, an officer judging by the mass driver in his left hand and the bars on his collar, was holding a gun to Samus' visor. Her Power Beam rested on the ground, inactive. Knowing a mass driver could punch through energy shields like they were nothing, the Chief and Ranma stopped, levelling their rifles at the man's head.

"Put those down, or she dies. All of your weapons. I'll be taking that flight recorder, by the way. It's the only thing with the facility's coordinates, I can't let you have it."

The two growled, dropping their weapons to the ground. Ranma set down the flight recorder, sighing quietly. Knowing they'd have to step back, or risk the bastard killing Samus, they did so. The officer smirked, knowing his weapon would keep them at bay, as he sauntered forward to pick the recorder and the weapons up off the ground. As he bent down, he failed to notice Ranma's left arm glowing white, becoming a replica of the Power Beam laying inert on the ground. Ranma leveled the weapon at the soldier.

"Hey, prick."

The officer looked up and paled as he saw himself gazing down a glowing weapon barrel.

"That's -mine-."

There was no outcry. There was no moment of revelation, no final prayer, no last words. Ranma simply allowed the Charge Beam to remove the man of the weighty, useless burden that was his head. John and Samus both turned to stare at Ranma as though he'd grown a second head, though their visors prevented him from seeing their raised eyebrows.

"Ranma. You could have told me you didn't need a weapon."

Ranma just turned to the Chief and removed his helmet.

"Do you?"

"Good point."

Both men turned to scare at the bounty hunter still occupying the passenger seat of the Warthog, shuddering and shaking somewhat as she tried to keep her tears in. Soon, it became too much for her. Her mind, in one last attempt to keep her stoicism intact, allowed itself to blank and forced the poor girl into unconsciousness. Ranma sighed and shook his head, bending to regather the weapons and unused ammunition, nodding to the Chief as he climbed into the back of the Warthog. He handed up the weapons and climbed into the driver's seat, settling Samus more comfortably in her seat as they drove away as quickly as they could from the Cougar, the mech's joints and armor beginning to glow cherry-red as its delayed-self-destruct finally ignited.

--Clyde's Hot Spot--

Clyde had been forced to close early today. For one thing, Ranma and John had apparently responded to something far worse than the usual domestic disturbances that Ranma usually handled alone, and it had taken all of his bouncer's day to finish. For another thing, the military vehicles currently occupying his bar's parking spaces rather precluded patronage. At least, Clyde decided with a wry chuckle, all of these soldiers were well-acquainted with off-duty drinking.

No less then thirty heads turned at the sound of an engine in the nearby garage gunning, then cutting off. The sound was immediately followed by two muffled voices, seemingly joking around, moving closer to the entrance to the bar. Two imposing figures suddenly occupied the door, one carrying a third figure. The soldier carrying the orange bounty hunter nodded to his new partner, and proceeded immediately upstairs to put the figure in a bed. This left the SPARTAN with the splash '117' on his shoulder: the Master Chief.

The major that had attempted to chew out the SPARTANs could be seen to stand, clearing his throat as he established what he assumed was eye contact with the soldier before him. Clyde put down the glass and rag as Iris took another round of orders, both canting their heads to listen in.

"I'm Major George Dillon, Master Chief. I don't quite know what to say right now. The...the planet of Sentinel, and the city of Locust, are in your debt, as well as in the debt of your friend, Ranma. We...we honestly couldn't have done it without you."

This statement was met by a loud assent from the gathered officers, and John allowed his gaze to sweep the room. There had been many, many more than thirty survivors of the attack, in fact, the majority of the defense force had withdrawn after Ranma and John had made contact with the enemy forces. It caught John's notice that nobody in the room wore anything less than a fat chevron under a skinny one, and most of them had stars on their epaulettes or oak-leaf clusters on their collars. These were the COs of the battalions that had been involved in the battle.

"You could have given us a phone call. You're here for a reason."

The major flushed and nodded as a nearby general coughed and stood. Major Dillon stepped back as the general stood slowly, running a hand over his bald head.

"Chief, I'm General George Hammond. I'm in charge of planetary defense. The enemy you engaged on that field were remnants of an old faction of Jihaddists known as 'The Word of Blake'. You've likely never heard of them, but to anyone living in the galaxies these days, they're old, old news. Our problem is, we need to know why they came back."

The Chief simply canted his head, knowing the general had more to say. He'd had plenty of experience talking with officers in the past, he knew most of them didn't want or expect a reply, but he also knew they paused like this to bait the unknowing. It was a duel of intelligence, of know-how. John hated it. He took a proffered folder with a simple string looped around a plastic fastener from the general.

"Well, we managed to unscramble some encrypted communications between the forces, and frankly, we're confused. As you can see, they continually mention finding some sort of lab facility, but the only facilities on this planet that fit that description have been here for decades. Why attack now? All data we have on those labs indicates they're just purifying water or energy sources for use by the populace."

John smirked inside his helmet. He was familiar with this, too. This was where the general gave him some nigh-impossible task with an apology and a promise to make it worth his while. He looked up as he noticed a helmeted Ranma coming down the stairs and nodded. Ranma came up and took a seat, indicating the general and John should do the same as he set the flight recorder on the table. John's eyebrows shot up under his helmet. He'd have to watch the man more often; he just seemed to fit into the 'partner' slot that John had never had before perfectly.

"Gentlemen, what we need to do is find out what that force was after. They're religious fanatics, it's likely some sort of mechanical messiah or something the like. We need you to find the lab, and do what you can to prevent another assault like the one you just repelled. I'm sorry, I know you both are trying to reestablish your lives after your awakening, but we need your professionalism and your unique abilities in this situation. The planet of Sentinel III promises to make it worth your time."

Ranma just looked over at John and nodded once, and John turned to the general and relayed the answer. In short order, the bar was cleared once again, and Ranma removed the helmet. He turned and looked at the stairs before turning back to John.

"Don't blink."

The time-lost soldier stared as his new partner tapped a button on his left wrist, something that wasn't typically present on a MJOLNIR Mark V armor, but then, the little variations in the armor told John that it was likely a Mark VI or even VII, something he had never seen personally. His bright blue eyes widened almost violently as that armor glowed white, seemingly changed shape, and became almost an exactly mirrored image of the armor the girl upstairs had been wearing. Its coloration was extremely different, however, with silver where the girl had gold-orange, and black where she had red. His visor and the little accents at the joints, in contrast to the girl's green, were a glacial blue.

Ranma shifted the Power Beam on his left arm into its subspace pocket and pressed a small, touch-sensitive node on his visor, activating its Scan function and downloading all of the data on the black box. After two or three minutes of reading through the pertinent data, he turned to the Chief with an almost slack-jawed slowness.

"John. Halsey's here on the planet."

* * *

Author's Note: Gustav is evil. I hate hurricanes. Here's the latest chapter, and I'm running out of 'Cold' analogies. -whine-


End file.
